


Battered Ships

by Vagabond



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Feels, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, I think finch is in on it too okay, M/M, angsty man feelings, blowjob, god think of the threesome potential, i mean what, somewhere in the first couple seasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:19:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5079388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagabond/pseuds/Vagabond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lionel Fusco is tired of burying bodies. Miserable, sore, and under appreciated, Reese tries to show him that he matters more than he thinks he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battered Ships

**Author's Note:**

  * For [livenudebigfoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livenudebigfoot/gifts).



> Always for Livenudebigfoot because we need more Rusco in our lives. 
> 
> Inspired by the fact the show never really resolves the unspoken elephant in the room about Stills' fate. 
> 
> Someone get me to a church, stat.

It had been a long day. After Lionel closed his latest case, Carter had taken one look at him and told him to go home. As he left the precinct she called after him and told him to take tomorrow off too. He’d consider it, especially because the days drained him more than they used to. Police work was far less complicated before Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome showed up with his genius boss and pulled him into their operation.

He’d buried a lot of bodies since then, and the weight of it dragged him down. The IAB officer had been the final straw. He was tired of burying bodies and taking trips out to Oyster Bay, just waiting to be caught. This time, though, HR knew. Simmons knew. They’d protect him, but for how long? Until John decided it was time to cash in all of Lionel’s cards and leave him to the wolves? Eventually he’d stop being a useful asset, and then where would he be?

Probably buried with the rest of them.

A commotion nearby caught his attention and he jogged over and glanced down the street. Right in front of his eyes was a tall man in black dragging a young, screaming woman into an SVU. He pulled out his sidearm with a shouted ‘Hey!’ but didn’t get a chance to pull the trigger. The abductor took one to the knee and dropped to the ground as the girl ran away from him and back to her building.

Lionel approached the scene and the downed man just as he sat up and took aim at him. A bullet went through the guy’s chest and he fell back to the ground. One look at the man’s unmoving chest told Lionel all he needed to know: he was dead.

John appeared from the shadows after he draped a jacket around the frightened young woman.

“Want to tell me what the hell is going on here?” The detective asked.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here, Lionel. Funny running into you.” John walked passed him and bent down to the man on the ground. He yanked up the guy’s shirt to reveal a police badge.

“You just killed a cop,” Lionel pointed out as he looked between the dead man and John. “What the hell?”

“HR thug. That girl over there is the daughter of a local congressman. He’s apparently holding out on some legislation that HR wanted him to help pass and they thought they could sway him by taking his daughter. Obviously it didn’t work.” John stood back up and stepped back over to Lionel.

“Good of you to show up though, Lionel.” John offered a wry smile, “you can take care of the body while I take care of the girl.”

“You know what, fuck you. I’m done burying your bodies,” Lionel snapped. He gasped, though, when John threw him against the car and regarded him curiously.

“I forgot, who’s the dirty cop here? I need to get the congressman’s daughter to safety, and unless you want to call this in and explain to your HR buddies why you showed up on the scene while off duty, I’d suggest you get moving.” The former operative stepped away and walked over to the girl.

Lionel knew he had no choice. There were still keys in the SUV, so with gloves on he dragged the body into the trunk while John disappeared with the girl. He drove the familiar path out to Oyster Bay and thought about every person that was buried there in unmarked graves. Mistakes from long ago that still haunted him, even though most of them weren’t even his to begin with.

He found a good place and set to work, using a shovel conveniently stashed in the back of the car. It took a while to dig the grave. Six feet down was a lot of work. Once that grisly task was completed he dragged the body and dumped it in the grave. For a moment he was grateful he hadn’t recognized the detective, but when he glanced back down as he filled the grave back in with dirt he saw Stills’ face staring back at him with dead eyes.

Dropping the shovel, he stumbled backwards and nearly fell on his ass. He swallowed hard and looked back over at the grave just to see it was the unfamiliar officer again. Lionel ignored the tears at the backs of his eyes as he stepped back up, picked up the shovel, and finished burying the body.

As he trekked back to the car and tossed the shove in the back, his phone buzzed. He let it go to voicemail. It buzzed again as he slid into the driver’s seat. He ignored it. The third time, he finally picked it up.

“I’m tired of burying bodies,” Lionel said quietly as he stared up at the night sky through the open window, well aware that it was Harold calling him. No doubt John had already given him the latest update.

“Good to hear from you, Detective. Perhaps I will have a discussion with Mr. Reese about it,” Harold drawled on the other end of the line. “I prefer leaving people alive anyway. There’s no reason you should continue to clean up our messes.”

Lionel laughed because he wasn’t sure how else to respond.

“They’re my messes,” he answered, “Stills was my mess, because I decided it would be a good idea to run with him. The IAB guy, he was mine, too. I was stupid enough not to see the writing on the wall. Now the guy I just buried, another cop, he’s my fault too, somehow. This is the universe repaying me for all the shitty things I’ve done.”

Silence stretched between them and Lionel considered hanging up the phone.

“You have a skewed perspective, Detective.”

“Yeah? You think? Forget it, glasses. One of these days it is going to be Mr. Dark and Shady burying me because I stopped being useful. I’m not going to pretend I don’t know how this ends.”

Another long stretch of silence fell between them as Lionel wondered just how he’d gotten himself into this situation.

“Try to get some rest,” Harold said quietly, “perhaps some progress can be made on this issue after you’ve had a chance to sleep.”

“Maybe,” perhaps it really was all Lionel needed. Sleep, to clear his head. “Night.”

“Goodnight Detective.”

The line went dead, but Lionel was aware that somehow, some way, Harold was always listening. He would never be more than a call away, and he was somewhat comforted by the thought. Yet he was sore, tired, his hands were rough and he’d managed a couple blisters while digging the grave and all he wanted to do was fall into bed and pretend it hadn’t happened.

His drive home was long and tedious. In the background the radio grumbled on as a talk show host talked about this and that. City lights flashed in his peripheral as he picked his way home, traffic non-existent thanks to the late hour. He had to ditch the car after he wiped away any evidence, and torched the damn thing before he made the final leg of his trip home.

When he finally stepped through his door, it was nearly four in the morning, and he was long overdue for some rest. He locked the door behind him and made a beeline for the kitchen to wash his hands and grab a snack when something moved behind him.

“Heard you talked to the boss, Lionel,” John’s familiar voice filled the room. He sounded downright amused. “Got me in trouble for dropping a body instead of kneecapping. Didn’t anyone teach you about tattling?”

“Didn’t anyone teach your manners? Breaking and entering isn’t as endearing as you might think it is.” Lionel turned on the sink and allowed the water to warm before he stuck his worn and blistered hands under the stream. He added soap and slowly washed them. Even his gloves hadn’t been much of a defense against the harsh surface of the shovel.

“I’m not trying to be endearing,” John replied and Lionel listened to his footsteps as he made his way into the kitchen. “Harold also said that you shouldn’t be the one cleaning up our mess anymore. You tired of burying bodies? Never seemed to mind it when you were hanging out with your corrupt cop buddies.”

That was it. Lionel turned, wet hands and all, and moved to punch John. His hit was easily deflected, as he expected it would be, and John grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. He was trapped, and could feel John’s warmth against his back. Lionel refused to struggle and just stood there, his free hand wet and dripping by his side.

“That was stupid,” John said, voice pitched low in a way that caused the hairs on the back of Lionel’s neck to rise.

“Worth it, though. Anyone ever tell you that you’re a piece of work?”

“You, on numerous occasions.”

Silence stretched between them and Lionel waited to see if the other man would let him go. He didn’t. He remained a solid force behind him, holding him still, waiting patiently for whatever would come next.

“If you have an issue, Lionel, you should have spoken up about it.”

“Why, because you’re such a good listener? And what part of ‘fuck you’ from earlier didn’t you understand? Look, I know you don’t have a high opinion of me and you still think I’m nothing but a dirty cop. Maybe I am. Maybe all I’m good for is doing grunt work and burying bodies. That’s why I didn’t ‘speak up’ about it. Nothing I say will change your opinion so why bother?” He huffed after he was done, tilted his head down to stare at the floor beneath his feet, shadowed by his body.

“I didn’t realize you had such a deep knowledge of my opinions.” John sounded amused, and it served to piss Lionel off.

“Get off of me,” he hissed and tried to jerk his way out of the other man’s hold. Lionel jammed his foot back against John’s shin and the other man loosened his grip enough for him to turn and free himself from it. He immediately put distance between him and the former operative, walking quickly to the other side of the kitchen where he ignored the way he was shaking. With the small table between them, Lionel at least had better ground than before.

John appeared to be a bit more serious now, the amusement having faded from his face into hard lines that looked almost concerned. But why would John be concerned about him? _He wouldn’t_ , Lionel’s brain supplied unhelpfully, _he’s just pissed you got the drop on him._

“You aren’t just complaining,” John said as if it were some sort of revelation. “You’re really upset by this.”

“Thanks for joining the conversation there buddy, took you a bit,” Lionel answered dryly as he wiped his still damp hands on his pants. “Did you think I was joking? Just playing around because I love doing your dirty work so much? Who the hell do you think you are, and more so, who the hell do you think I am?”

The other man tilted his head slightly and appeared to be considering his words carefully. As he stared at Lionel, Lionel tried not to fidget. There was something about the intensity of the stare that had butterflies throwing a rave in his stomach. There was no indifference, no amusement, and no malice either. John regarded him with a thoughtful, assessing gaze.

“This all started when you made me bury my best friend, you know.” Lionel spoke first.

“The dirty cop?” John seemed surprised by that.

“Jimmy Stills. The one whose badge you throw around sometimes like you actually knew anything about him. He was more than just a dirty cop.” He had been Lionel’s friend. It was his couch he’d stayed on when he was going through the divorce. His kids who played with him when he wasn’t allowed to see his son. His wife who made pancakes, and wonderful dinners, and looked on sympathetically without ever judging.

It was Stills who had carted Lionel’s drunken ass home on a number of nights when he would have been content to fall in the street and let it all be over. To say his friend’s legacy was only as a dirty copy would be to ignore all of the other things he did. Later bad deeds shouldn’t erase all the good.

In the time he’d been thinking, instead of watching John, the other man had crossed the room and was standing right in front of him. Lionel glanced up and waited for whatever was going to happen next.

“What was he, then?” John asked in such a way that he didn’t seem to be fishing for a specific answer. He actually wanted to know.

“My friend. The only one who cared when my wife left me. He saved my life a dozen times over. Was he a good person? I don’t know. Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Did he deserve a bullet and to have his body buried in Oyster Bay? No.” Lionel frowned. “Did I deserve to be the one who buried him in the cold ground? Jury is still out on that one.”

Lionel nearly jumped out of his skin when John’s rough hand rested against the side of his face. His thumb traced Lionel’s cheekbone thoughtfully. Once again, John was taking the time to consider his words; it was all over his face that he didn’t quite know what to say.

“What’s happening right now?” Lionel finally asked as he ignored how warm he suddenly was.

“I’m sorry about your friend, Lionel. I was focused, at the time, on the mission and not on the people I used to accomplish it. I saw dirty cops, but that’s changed.”

“Yeah? How so?” Lionel almost regretted the doubt in his voice.

“You’re a good man. A good cop.”

If those words hadn’t been enough, the kiss that followed certainly was. John’s mouth pressed to his with all of the confidence of a man who knew he wasn’t going to be pushed away. Somehow he had known before Lionel did that this is all he’d wanted all along. The kiss drew a soft groan from Lionel’s throat, one he’d be embarrassed about later, and he tentatively rested a hand against John’s shoulder.

They stayed like that for a time, not that Lionel could or even wanted to move. Not when John’s body was pressed against his, with one of his thighs pressed temptingly between Lionel’s legs. When the kiss ended, John’s mouth moved to Lionel’s jaw. He used the hand still resting on his cheek to tilt Lionel’s head back to kiss and suck at his pulse.

“Ah-what are we, uh, doing?” Lionel asked, a little out of breath as his eyes slid shut and his hips pushed forward against John’s thigh.

“What does it look like, Lionel?” John asked coyly, his breath warm against Lionel’s neck as he followed up the question with a delicious drag of teeth against skin.

“Just, making, sure,” he swallowed hard and tried to catch his breath. It wasn’t working. “You have a funny way of apologizing.”

  
John stopped and looked at Lionel long and hard, then kissed him again. Lionel gave up on talking as he lost himself in the sensations. After a long bout of making out, John broke the kiss and grabbed Lionel’s wrist. He pulled him through the apartment into the bedroom and didn’t bother with the lights. The moment they were through the door, John was on Lionel again, this time a bit more aggressively. Lionel groaned and allowed the storm that was John Reese to overtake him. He’d always been a ship, battered by the waves John generated. This was no different.

Off came Lionel’s suit jacket, followed by the sound of popping buttons as John hastily undid his dress shirt. As John’s hands moved, his mouth worried marks into Lionel’s skin, marks that he hoped would be faint by the time he went back to work because otherwise he’d have some explaining to do.

The kissing stopped only to give John enough time to pull Lionel’s undershirt up over his head before their lips were pressed together and Lionel was pushed back until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He dropped down to a sitting position, but was then pushed back so he was lying with his legs off the bed, horizontal across the width of it. Lionel managed to kick his shoes off as John’s mouth explored his collarbone.

There was a weight at his waist as he realized too late John had already unbuttoned his trousers and shoved his hand down them. Lionel’s fingers curled in the comforter as he bit back a moan. John’s hand worked him slowly as he leaned down over Lionel and nuzzled at his hairline.

“Be loud, Lionel,” John instructed, “I want your neighbors to hear you.” He squeezed Lionel’s cock teasingly and Lionel cried out and pushed his hips up into the attention.

“Good boy,” John purred and Lionel hated how the words sent a jolt of arousal through him.

John took a momentary break from stroking in order to yank Lionel’s pants down and off of him, taking his socks with them as he tossed them somewhere onto the floor in the dark room. It was only when he was lying on the bed, naked except for his briefs that he realized John was only just now sliding out of his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Lionel watched, squinting in the darkness, as John kicked off his own shoes.

“Get comfortable,” John said and Lionel didn’t hesitate in doing just that. He shifted so that he was laying the correct way, except he’d rolled over onto his hands and knees.

“No, Lionel,” John shoved his hip gently, “on your back.”

“Oh,” Lionel hesitated.

“Something wrong, Detective?”

“No,” Lionel answered hastily as he rolled onto his back. At least the lights were off. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if John had turned them on. Before he was given a chance to really think about it, John settled on top of him.

“You gonna take this off or-” Lionel didn’t get a chance to finish that statement as John leaned in and kissed him again. The other man settled over Lionel, straddling his leg so that he could press his knee up against Lionel’s groin. He held himself up with one hand while the other lazily explored Lionel’s chest. As they kissed, John’s fingers found a nipple and pinched it gently, pulling a surprised noise from Lionel as he ground his still brief-clad erection down against John’s knee.

“Perfect,” John mumbled against Lionel’s lips before he leaned back a little and studied the detective. The only light in the room trickled in through the space between the shades over the windows. He leaned back down and took the abused nipple into his mouth and lapped at it until it was hard and Lionel squirmed beneath him. John gave the same attention to the other and one of Lionel’s hands moved to rest against the former operative’s upper arm. His fingers dug into the high quality fabric of his shirt.

The word ‘perfect’ rumbled around Lionel’s head as he switched back and forth between focusing on the way it had sounded, and John’s mouth on his skin. He whimpered when John dragged his teeth across the sensitive nub and relaxed only when his tongue immediately followed. Was this all the other man wanted? For Lionel to lay there as he touched and kissed him? How on earth was that perfect?

He tried to shift into a position where he could get his hands on the buttons of John’s shirt, only to have the other man stop his exploration and grab Lionel’s wrists. They were immediately pinned to the bed as John lorded over him and leaned in to steal another bruising kiss.

“Now now, Lionel, I gave you explicit instructions to make yourself comfortable. I haven’t told you to do anything else now, have I?” He murmured after he pulled back from the kiss.

“Look, I may not be experienced in this particular thing but I’m pretty sure you should be naked, too.”

“Should I?” John asked with a sly smile. “I didn’t realize there was a rule book for this sort of thing.”

“Well,” Lionel stuttered a bit, “there’s not, but don’t you, I mean…” He motioned with his head downward to try and offer a hint at what he was trying to say.

“This is not about me, Detective,” John purred, “it is about you. So relax, lay back, and allow me to show my appreciation.”

“Your, your what?” Lionel blinked and swallowed down the emotions that those simple words had unearthed. Appreciation? Appreciation for what? For burying bodies, for being a loser, for being a dirty cop that was mildly useful? He turned his head away and closed his eyes and flinched when John’s lips brushed along his exposed cheek.

“You have some very nasty thoughts in that head of yours, Lionel,” John whispered to him as he stroked the inside of one of Lionel’s wrists with his thumb. “I admit I haven’t much helped them. Finch worries about you, about how you view yourself. I suppose it bothers me as well.”

Silence fell between them as John’s words sank in. People were concerned about him, people other than Carter. It was a strange thought.

“If you want me to stop then I will stop, and leave.” John offered and it sounded genuine. He’d walk out that door no questions asked if Lionel said it was what he wanted.

“Or I could stay here and you could let me do what I came to do,” he added, and then waited.

It took Lionel a moment to comprehend what any of it meant, if it really meant anything at all. It wasn’t exactly normal, showing appreciation this way. Yet it felt nice. After a night of digging another grave and thinking about the ills of the past, a little release and a chance to just let go sounded appealing. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and turned his head to kiss John.

The other man seemed pleased, if the low noise he made was any indication. Lionel’s wrists were released and he immediately wrapped his arms around John’s neck, deepening the kiss with a needy sound. His fingers threaded through John’s short hair and he relished the ability to touch as their mouths worked together and John pushed his knee up tighter against Lionel’s groin so he could grind down against it.

“That’a boy,” John murmured as he pulled back and out of Lionel’s grasp. Lionel’s hands dropped to the bed as he watched him consider him once again. Then, John’s mouth picked up where it had left off earlier, exploring the skin on Lionel’s chest, nuzzling down to his belly as talented hands finally freed his erection from his briefs.

Lionel shivered as the air hit him, and stared down at John who glanced up at him with sharp blue eyes, once again brimming with amusement. He didn’t get a chance to guess at why, because John had already taken the head of his cock into his mouth and the world around him fell away. All Lionel could do was moan and grasp at the blankets on the bed as he fought every urge to thrust up into John’s mouth.

He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done this for him. After tonight, he wasn’t sure he’d want to remember any other mouth except John’s.

Where the other man had picked up his skills, Lionel would probably never know, but he could definitely appreciate them as his back arched involuntarily when John took him further in. His talented tongue and lips worked the head, then down the shaft, and then back to the head as John moved his hand up and down Lionel’s exposed length. The moans fell out of Lionel’s mouth and sounded foreign to his own ears.

John’s mouth traced the underside of his cock, tongue pressing against sensitive skin. It was a gentle touch, meant to tease. Each little touch of tongue, lips, and sometimes the gentlest graze of teeth sent waves of pleasure through Lionel’s body. His nerves tingled, alive for the first time in a very long time.

When John took him back into his mouth, Lionel tried to buck up only to have John hold his hips down and hum in response. He had to remind himself that the whole point of this was to let John have control, and quietly resigned himself to being tortured to death by that mouth. Of course, John did not disappoint, and seemed to reward his submission by taking the whole of him deep into his throat.

Lionel was certain he’d nearly lost consciousness for a moment as he begged loudly for more.  
John obliged, working his mouth up and down Lionel’s cock at a pace that was just quick enough to keep Lionel building toward the edge, but not enough to take him there. He had to surrender to the sensation, and whined as John ran his fingers up and down the inside of Lionel’s thigh teasingly as he worked his cock in his mouth.

Then, the mouth was gone, and his briefs were finally being tugged off to leave him completely naked on the bed. He shivered and watched as John left the bed for a moment and disappeared into the bathroom. There was the sound of rummaging, and then John returned and took up his place on the bed once more.

“What were you looking for?” Lionel asked, voice wavering.

“Patience, Lionel,” John replied as he resumed his place between Lionel’s legs and took his cock back into his mouth. Lionel groaned and arched his hips a bit when one of John’s hands encouraged him to do so. He completely missed the opening of a bottle cap, but knew it had to have happened because the next thing he knew John’s finger was pressed against his ass, rubbing warmed lube against the tight ring of muscle.

“Oh,” was the only sound that came out of Lionel’s mouth as John continued to work his cock while he also pushed the tip of his finger into him. He whimpered and flinched away from the foreign touch which was quickly removed. He’d done it himself once or twice, but never had he had someone else finger him.

John leaned up over him and then down to steal a kiss as a lubed hand grasped Lionel’s cock and stroked it. Lionel melted into the touch and moaned openly against the other man’s mouth as he worked his hips up into his hand.

“Trust me, Lionel,” John requested as he pressed a kiss to the edge of Lionel’s lips.

“Okay,” Lionel replied, consenting to whatever it was the other man had in mind. “But you’re not fucking me in the ass.”

The other man laughed, obviously caught off guard by the statement. He looked down at Lionel, his expression a mix of amusement with a hint of affection.

“Not the plan tonight, don’t worry.”

Lionel ignored how the qualifier _tonight_ made his stomach flutter.

With the initial tension diffused, John kissed his way back down to Lionel’s cock and pressed warm, open mouthed kisses along the underside of it. He then focused at the underside of the head, teasingly working it with his tongue and teeth. Lionel focused on that, and tried to avoid thinking about the lube currently being spread against his ass or the firm, yet gentle finger prodding him.

In time with the finger being pushed in, John took Lionel’s cock completely into his mouth, and distracted him from the awkwardness of the first finger. John hummed around his cock which drew a series of needy moans out of Lionel who worked his hips into whatever sensation he could get. Even the finger felt non-threatening now as John began to slowly thrust it into him. The other man bobbed his head in time with the thrusts, and with a second finger added along with more lube, he twisted his fingers in deep and Lionel gasped.

“Oh jesus,” he moaned as John hit that spot again and continued to fuck him in time with his bobbing head. The other man massaged Lionel’s prostate, toyed with him, as he sucked and licked at the head of his cock.

“That good, Lionel?” John purred as he pulled his fingers out and just teased the tips of them back into Lionel who whined loudly and tried to push himself down onto them. “Go ahead, fuck yourself on them, I don’t mind.”

The permission he was given was hotter than it should have been, and Lionel began to move his hips down in order to do just that. He worked himself on John’s fingers while the other man watched him with a lustful gaze, looking absolutely pleased at what he had reduced the detective to. Lionel thought about what it was like to be claimed, to be wanted like this, to be appreciated and he let out a soft keening sound. John worked with the thrusts and twisted his fingers again to draw a strangled moan out of him.

Lionel’s cock bobbed with his movements, hard and leaking, but John paid no mind. Instead, his eyes were now focused on Lionel’s ass as he worked it over his fingers.

“This is beautiful, Lionel,” John encouraged as he turned his head and pressed a kiss to Lionel’s inner thigh. “Perfect,” he murmured against Lionel’s skin before he bit down and sucked, leaving a nice little bruise that only they would know about.

“Ah, you’re, touched if you think, this is beautiful,” Lionel gasped, and then cried out when John took his cock back into his mouth and began working over it again with lips and tongue. Like the tease he was, he then released Lionel’s cock and looked up at him.

“Bastard,” Lionel growled, though he turned his head and moaned when John pushed against his prostate again.

“What was that, Detective?”

“Please,” he whined, on edge, each push of John’s fingers into him driving him closer and closer to it.

“Please what?”

“God, more, more everything.”

“You’ll need to be a bit more specific, Lionel,” John purred with a smirk as he removed his fingers and sat back. “What do you want?”

“I want to come,” Lionel ground out as he reached down to take care of it himself, only to have John grab his arm and pin it to the bed.

“Then ask.”

Lionel felt the heat rise to his cheeks at the simple command.

“Please, let me come,” he said, words shaky and uncertain, though they did the trick. John applied more lube to his hand and wrapped it tightly around Lionel’s cock. He stroked him firmly and quickly and leaned down to press their lips together. Lionel moaned openly into the other man’s mouth, begging and whining as he pushed his hips up into the motions.

Then his orgasm hit him. It destroyed him. He couldn’t even feel his body anymore as hot white pleasure consumed him. He came all over John’s hand, his shirt, his own belly, and he kept rocking his hips into the other man’s tight grip until he was spent.

For a while, his mind floated, unable to land on any one thought. There was just warmth, pleasure, and a distinct sense of safety that surrounded him. As he slowly became more aware of his surroundings he realized John’s mouth was leaving a trail of lazy kisses all along his jaw.

“So I’m guessing that’s not the first time you’ve done this,” Lionel mumbled, barely able to make out the words. He did, however, feel the curve of John’s smile against his skin.

“What gave you that idea?” John answered deviously, before he got off of the bed and disappeared. Lionel heard the sound of running water and assumed he was cleaning up.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Lionel called out, feeling a little awkward that there was no reciprocation expected. It didn’t seem right.

“I’ll let you know, Lionel,” John answered from the bathroom before he tossed something onto the bed. Lionel reached for it and realized it was a cloth.

“Thanks, Mr. Thoughtful,” he said as he wiped himself down the best he could given his body’s current desire to imitate a noodle. He tossed the cloth onto the floor to deal with in the morning and focused on trying to bury himself beneath the blankets.

After all of that, he was tired.

“Are you staying?” He asked as an afterthought, already drifting.

“Do you want me to?” John asked.

Lionel wasn’t sure, so he didn’t answer. It was not a decision he wanted to make right then. Too much had gone on; there were too many things to process.

“Go to sleep,” John insisted, and Lionel allowed the words to wrap around him like a blanket. At some point he was sure John let himself out of the apartment, but Lionel fell asleep quickly enough that he barely noticed it.

Since he was off the next day, he slept in until ten. When he finally rolled out of bed he took a shower and got dressed in jeans and a button-up. He made his way out to the kitchen to find a pink donut box resting on his counter. Opening it, he found a beautiful almond croissant. Next to it was a note that simply read:

_You are appreciated, detective.  
You won’t need to bury bodies anymore._

It was signed by Harold, and Lionel shivered. Did Harold know? Had this been a plan he and John had concocted together? He blushed at the thought and immediately dismissed it. Perhaps Harold was just trying to be nice. That’s the story he’d stick with, anyway.

As he waited patiently to heat up the croissant in the microwave, he pulled out his phone and shot Harold a quick text.

_Thanks, Glasses._

His phone buzzed almost immediately in reply.

_You’re quite welcome, detective. Enjoy._

Lionel smiled to himself and grabbed his pastry.

**Author's Note:**

> For more terrible debauchery that would make my mother cry please follow me on [Tumblr @ Waffleironbiddingwar ](http://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com/)


End file.
